Three Fish Hooks and a Dead Father
by SoluxHellsinger
Summary: You think your life was hard? Try having three fish hooks in your lip and the blame of your dead father painted across your forehead. You still think your life is harder? Try being a bandit and a thief your whole life, shunned by your people, and have three hundred whip lash scars across your back. My name is K'shanji, and this is my story of love, murder and of course, thievery.


_This is my first Skyrim fanfic, so don't be afraid to criticize or compliment! This is the new updated chapter one, so if you have read the first chapter, it's changed! Please enjoy! :D_

Maybe I should never have run away from my family. Maybe I should have never stumbled upon my father whilst he hunted. I don't really know, but let us start at the beginning, shall we? My name is K'shanji, son of Ri'akarr and Abaava, and I am a Khajiit... Well, sort of a Khajiit, but we'll get to that later.

My father was the tribal leader of the group that I came from. They lived deep in the southern jungles of Elsweyr. I do not recall the name of that particular tribe. The little I can recall was the race of all members, Cathay-raht, a jaguar-like species, and the story that brought me to Skyrim. Why don't I share that now?

When I was a boy, I was destined to do great things for the people of my tribe, though I looked a little...odd. My fur was pure albino white, though frankly my eyes tell a story that I am not albino. I had a different face structure as well, and had russet fluff around my neck and head. Upon my brow was a black hand print, the finger tips reaching my forehead while the back of the palm reached mid cheek, almost like someone put their hand in ink and stamped it upon my brow. Two small fangs like a saber cat protruded from my upper jaw, though they where not as long as a saber cats. All over my arms, back, legs, and tail where orange and black tribal markings; unique to me only. I also had a skinny tail with russet fluff on the end. (Just for readers to understand, K'shanji is a Tsavo Lion, if you already didn't know!)

The Elders took my looks to be a good sign for the tribe, saying that a new species of Khajiit had just been born. I mean obviously, right? What other Khajiit looked like me? I was dubbed Prince K'shanji the Leader of a New Race. Imagine having a name like that! What a mouthful.

Anyway, when I was twenty two years old, I was to become leader of the tribe soon. My father was so proud of me, his son, a new breed of Khajiit, that he had decided to take me on a man hunt (or cat hunt, hehe). I was told to chose my target, and it so happened to be a Khajiit by the name of M'zaka who stole my father's dwarven metal crafted sword from his throne room only three nights previously. I took a band of four Khajiit warriors with me, also hand picked, and alongside my father we hunted M'zaka down.

What we didn't know was that M'zaka was also a traitor. He had built himself a small army of Khajiit outlaws and dubbed himself leader. When we reached his camp, we jumped out on him only to realize the mistake too late. We were swamped with the angered Khajiit outlaws. They took down our four warriors, and we took down twenty of them.

In fear, my father had retreated, leaving me to finish off the remaining thirty or so fully trained and armored Khajiit. As you may have guessed, I didn't kill them all. I was captured and presented before their "High King" M'zaka. I can remember the conversation like it was yesterday...

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"M'zaka knew that you would come soon," the tall grey and black Khajiit smiled down at me. They had tied my hands behind my back with thick ropes and stripped me of my armor and weapons, their fore my pride. "M'zaka will get revenge upon Ri'akarr for killing his warriors. M'zaka shall call torturer now to punish Ri'akarr's son"

I sat their helplessly as M'zaka had brought out his top torturer, who in turn had brought along three solid gold fishing hooks. (Pardon me, three HUGE solid gold fishing hooks.) M'zaka turned to look at me, his golden eyes piercing my ice blue ones.

"You know how these work, cat? No? Then M'zaka's torturer will show you!" He laughed with glee. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and two burly black Khajiit grabbed my shoulders from behind and held me down while the torturer did his work, and what a work that was!

He had stuck the three fishing hooks into my lips, one sticking out halfway in my cheek and the other two out of the middle of my chin. When that was done, the two black Khajiit twisted them so their would be no pulling them out. So to put it bluntly, it hurt like hell.

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That's about all I remember of that. When I was released in the woods bleeding and in so much pain, I decided that their was no use in going back home. My father had left me to die at the mercy of M'zaka and his outlaws. That didn't sound like something a good father would do, and it blinded me with anger.

So, I ran away. I lived for a few moons out in the surrounding woods of my tribe, sneaking up close when I could to see how my father was taking my "death". In front of his tribe members he didn't cry or look distraught, but in his home, he wept a lake full of tears, morning his only son's "death". Even when I saw this it didn't bribe me to go back. I was still very angry with him.

Then came the day when all hell broke loss. While sneaking around the tribes city, their came screams from my family's house. Though I was supposed to be dead, I knew I couldn't just let my family be attacked; if that was what it was. When I arrived at the front door, I knew something was wrong. Instead of pick locking it, I knocked the door in and nearly gagged when I saw the scene before me. Ri'akarr and Abaava were lying dead on the floor, large slash marks on their chests and arms.

In rage, I quickly found the Khajiit responsible for it in the master bedroom, a long wicked ebony dagger raised to cut through the thin tarp over the window. I had kicked him to the ground, taken his dagger, and slit his throat in a matter of three seconds. By then, a crowd of Khajiit had gathered by the door, gasping in shock and screaming in fright at the scene laid before them.

A high ranking officer, Do'sound, stepped forward and had pointed an accusing finger at me, calling me a murderer and a traitor to the Khajiit. At first, I had thought that he had meant me pretending to be dead, but then I realized the real reason he called me those names. He had thought that I had killed Ri'akarr and Abaava!

Unable to explain that I had killed the real murderer, who happened to be Ri'akarr's closest advisor M'kazi, I was sentenced to death for my "cruel ploy". But, before I was sent to Helgen for execution, the Khajiit wanted to see me be punished personally. Do'sound, being the highest ranking officer, became the new leader of the tribe. He sentenced me to the worst possible punishment before death; three hundred whip lashes to the back. The Khajiit took turns whipping me until I had received the three hundred Do'sound had ordered. All that was left of my back was useless muscle, a small amount if blooded fur, and bone.

Finally, I was sent to Helgen for execution, though that didn't happen. Before my head was chopped off, a dragon had attacked the city, burning it to the ground. Thankfully, I had escaped.

Well, that leads us to where I am now, at the gates of Windhelm, checking out a boy who was said to be performing something called the "Black Sacrament", whatever that is. Oh well, I do have nothing better to do!

_Hope you liked it! I like this version better than the first one I did! _

_WARNING: The following chapters will be in third person from now on! I think that I had to do first person for chapter one because it gets more in depth, but I think the rest of the chapters will be better in third! _


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